I was publicly stomped on by a troll, but when I dared to defend myself, my now use to be friends advised me to stop writing for the public to read, that I should take down everything I've ever written about my ex.
Yesterday I was numb, today I was beating myself up. Could there be things so awful that I had written that I don't recall? Am I really so angry that I fail to realize that everything I write is about him?
So tonight as I realized I needed to write out my pain, rather than try to bleed it out of myself, I dove head first into the search engine on my blog. I needed to see how many times I had allegedly "misrepresented (my) ex-fiance."
You know how many times I made barest mention of my ex? 3 times. In the span of 186 posts.
For the love of cookie dough, I didn't even devote an entire post to him! These are the only things I've publicly shared.
I'm not a bad person. Looking at it now, I don't think I'm that angry about that relationship either. If I were, shouldn't more of my writings be devoted to my angst/torch bearing to my ex, as I was accused by the troll.
I'm sad all this unnecessary drama has been stirred up. I'm sad that a poisonous troll had such power over friends who have known me for over 13 years.
I'm sorry that my words, spoken in confidence, where used against me.
So no, I won't stop writing. I won't make my writings private. Because I said nothing wrong in the first place.
Now I just need to convince my brain to let go of the hurt so I can stop the bleeding on my skin.
I lost two friends today. I really don't know what I feel.
A troll stepped in after four years and stirred up a pot of shit, to what end?
For three days my life became a weird day time high school drama. Why was I told to be the bigger man, and ignore what was being hurled at me? Why was I being told to stop writing? The crux of my writing wasn't about my ex, but about everything else in my life.
I talked to my therapist last night who told me I have every right to be upset. That I have a right to my own feelings of anger, hurt, and sadness.
Trolls suck.
Things have gotten so laughable for me in the last 12 hours. What once might have lead me to days of tears, self-doubt, and loads of self-hatred, I no longer find upsetting. Instead, I have spent the better part of today reveling in the fact that I no longer care about the opinions of fake people.
I love and respect the opinions of my friends, whom I know by name. I do not respect people who care to advise or castigate me from the shadows like Deep Throat.
It's funny that all this hullabaloo has come up. And I actually have My Trolls to thank for this.
See, my rankings and ratings in search engines have skyrocketing in the last 12 hours. The more times individuals visit my page, the higher my ranking in Google. So each time someone has commented "anonymously" or not, Google congratulates me and rewards me with a higher standing.
All the key words that have been used over and over and over again are now likely to be pulled up as results if someone were to search for "liar, slander, malicious, lies." See, once I mentioned Dr. House, MD briefly in a post. As a result, if someone types "dr. house" into Google, they land on my blog.
Weird? Yes. But that is the beauty of algorithms.
***UPDATED*** I have decided, as it is my right as this is my own fucking blog, that I am removing all of the "Anonymous" comments and those many of those comments that my dear, good friends made on behalf of my defense.
I changed some settings around for a bit, so anonymous commenter are not allowed and for a while, I will be moderating my comments section because really, this is not why I chose to write.
So in short, fuck off trolls, get a life, and I'll write. But seriously, what good are you doing by reporting back to my ex?
Anyone who REALLY knows me is aware that I am always open to correction. I may not like having my faults pointed out, but I usually have the humility to accept criticism where and when it is due. A real friendship in my eyes, is one where you can lovingly approach another about a fault/character flaw/bad habit and in true justice and sincerity point out the error of one's ways.
It's like that crappy, whiny song The Fray did several years ago. If you really care about someone who is doing things that are bad for them, you run the risk of losing that friendship. But a deep, abiding friendship between two people can usually help each other walk on a better path of life.
Oh, The Fray, how I hate your whiny Gray's Anatomy theme song. My ears bleed.
I had a dear, long-time friend call me today and voice some concern about the hurt and anger that I still carry around from the loss of my almost marriage. And I do admit it is a HUGE fault of mine that I should work on. I can accept her just criticism of me because she has spoken these words to me out of love and concern for me.
What I CAN NOT STAND FOR THE LIFE OF ME are those who dare offer council to me when they have done absofuckinglutly nothing for my life. These people are called trolls.
And I had a troll post a message to me on my previous post WHY. I raged for a few minutes then realized the absurdity of it all.
So this is what I had to say. After all, these writings are my own fucking diatribes. I'm not forcing a gun to anyone's head to read my drivel. I am not emailing it back to ANY of my exes. And of the people who read this blog, many do not know my ex fiancee. So I can only conclude that the person who sent me this note is someone who I haven't spoken to in 4 years, but makes it their disgusting duty to read up on my life and report back to my ex.
Anonymous,
all I have to say to you is that since you lack the courage to give me
your name (though I have a feeling who this is) I do not owe you any
explanation. In the past 4 years, that is one thousand four hundred
sixty days, you have not called me, nor written, nor text, or even sent
up smoke signals, save for this and two comments on a previous blog.
Quiet
simply, you are a coward and you like to stir the pot. Why do you feel
it is your duty to read what I write and then report it back to my ex?
If he has had an issue with me writing, than it is his duty to ask me
to cease and desist. If I were asked by him to no longer talk about the
demise of our relationship, then I would do so. So far, I haven't
heard anything.
Also, if you actually read my blog, there is no
way that I have ever insinuated that my ex fiancee was the man who was
responsible for raping me.
Lastly, and I'll be done here, the words "COUPLES COUNSELING" were N....E....V....E....R brought up.
Oh,
and one more thing, since this is MY blog and the internet is a public
forum, this conversation is now fodder for my next post. So in a way,
thank you for giving me a reason to write tonight.
And I was so afraid that I was going to have writers block.
And in case this wasn't already apparent, I'll make this clear:
Yes, I still bear the hurt that comes with being left at the alter, four days prior to my wedding.
Yes, I still bear the hurt that comes with losing about forty "friends" in one fell swoop. It's sad that of all those who claimed to be my friend, only two people of that former pool of "friends" bothered to call me. I wrote letters and made calls to all those friends within hours of the end of my engagement and NOT ONE SINGLE FUCKING PERSON had the decency to call or write back.
Am I a lot farther on in my healing than I was four years ago? Yes. Of course I am. It was four fucking years ago. And when I occasionally mention what happened, it's typically in reference to me learning to over come my fears. Things well up in my head, and like a tea pot, I have to let some steam out. But once again, this is my own fucking blog.
So now that I have blown off my steam, lest my readers, friends, or trolls think that I am an unhappy person, here's an awesome, hysterical video. This will help wipe away the blood dripping from your ears, if you happened to listen to the crappy Fray song.
Yes, I know it's been for fucking ever since I've written and yes, I've broken my own promise to write every damn day, but what can I say? Depression is a lying bastard:
Being treated with a cocktail of meds that quit working didn't fucking help. Fortunately, the med situation has been cleared up and I'm back to being myself. Yet, I've been afraid to pick up the pen, errrr, keyboard.
But when my Cousin asked me to back him up on an argument, I spent an hour constructing these arguments without fretting if I sounded stupid. I was writing from the heart and I didn't give a rat's ass if I was writing a rough draft of a terrible sounding argument, I just wanted it out.
Here's how is started: A distant cousin stated on Teh Book of Face that "The Pope didn't have "time" to meet with any Cubans like the Damas de Blanco and other human rights activists, but he did make sure to save plenty of time for Fidel and Raul. #AshamedToBeCatholic"
Responses of included the sexual misconduct of some members of the clergy, which wasn't even the point of the Pope's visit. Reading these responses got me going, so this is what flowed from my brain. Warning: this post is a metric fuck-ton long, so if you quit half way through I get it. But these are my fucking diatribes and I'll write whatever the hell I want.
"Hi XXXX and YYYY, I'm gonna butt into this argument. I usually try to refrain from arguments on FB b/c I like to keep my politics outside of my "social media" friends. But as a writer/blogger/editor, I am calling you out. Mi primo, Javier Camps, this is for you.
Point 1--With the issue of the Pope not "visiting with real Cubans": The Pope is the leader of a nation, Vatican City, an official doucumented country recognized worldwide. In addition, he is the head of the Catholic Church. As a leader of a "state" he is correct in meeting with the heads of the "state" of Cuban. Benedict openly criticized Communism and called for the reformation of the system, along with urging religious freedom.
The 85 y.o. pontiff suffers from EXTREME high blood pressure and has been told in the past that he should not travel by air, as the altitude reached during flight could cause him to stroke. The Pope's commitment to spreading the message of Christ by visiting a country where personal freedoms have been quashed for decades shows his willingness to sacrifice his health.
His travels to Mexico have been called by the press as "brief but intense." He arrived in Mexico at 4:12 pm Central Standard Time on Friday 23 and left Monday the 26 at 6AM. There is an 8 hr time difference between Rome and Mexico. Now, I'm hot to trot at just turning 31, but there is no fucking way that I could make my body adjust to an 8 hr time change in 3 days, and I'm betting neither of you could also.
Security was a HUGE issue. The Pope celebrated a Mass before a crowd of 300,000 people. Each and EVERY one of those people had to be searched before entering the stadium where the Mass was. We would do the same for our President; to not afford the same level of protection that we demand for our head of state is to say that the human dignity of the Pope is less than our President.
Point 2: Sexual Abuse:
This is a hot, volatile topic. I have first hand knowledge, as I have worked with the Church and the FBI to investigate allegations of sexual abuse and those who may come into contact with children. I am also a survivor of sexual abuse and rape (not by a member of the clergy, but someone who claimed to be a practicing Catholic), so I understand the gravity and the intense pain felt by those who have been raped/molested/abused.
Yes, there have been cover-ups. Bad priests have been shuffled around. Men of the collar who should have been thrown in jail alongside other rapists and pedophiles were unfortunately not held accountable.
There is not excusing this behavior. HOWEVER, if you are going to sling mud by singling out sexual misbehavior, you will find that you lose your ground very quickly.
I DEFY YOU to name me a Protestant, Muslim, Buddist, Toaist, Jewish, Hindu or any other religious sect that has not perpetrated crimes against children and has not covered it up. You can't, just like you can't say that our government leaders haven't covered up their sexual misconducts the same way.
Archbishop Silvano Tomasi, the Vatican's permanent observer to the UN, defended its record by claiming that "available research" showed that only 1.5%-5% of Catholic clergy were involved in child sex abuse.Statistics from the Christian Scientist Monitor newspaper to show that most US churches being hit by child sex abuse allegations were Protestant and that sexual abuse within Jewish communities was common.
The Church is in the process of cleaning out. They have admitted to the faults and errors and are working to make amends. No other religious group is being so openly transparent at this time, yet the Catholic Church remains faithful to it's current mission.
Point 3: The Catholic Faith
The Catholic Church is run by fallaible, fallen, sinful, men and women. No one is exempt, as by default we are stained with Original Sin at birth/conception. All of us, as Catholic men and women, make up the Chruch. We are a collective, one Body in Christ. We have an "elected official" i.e. the Pope who is the "governor" of the Catholic Church, who sets rules and sees that they are followed. Just as we Americans elect our President to set forth rules and sees that they are followed.
Are all of our American rules fair and just all the time? Is justice being served at every moment here? No, not at all. Take the Zimmerman case for example. Where is the justice?
As a Catholic we put our faith into action by making an Act of Free Will "to hold these truths self-evident" (to quote the Founders of our County). We assent to the belief that the Pope cannot error on teaching on Faith and Morals. That does not mean that the Pope/bishops/priests are exempt from making errors in judgement.
Being a Catholic is difficult. There are many rules to follow, teachings that are hard to understand, but as a Catholic, we MAKE the CHOICE to follow these rules. At any time, you are free to not follow the rules of the Church, but when you do so, please do not continue to call yourself a Catholic, for you are no more of a "real" Catholic than a member of the Harlem Globetrotters plays a "real" basketball game. (That analogy and this Point 3 argument is fully fleshed in this article. http://tinyurl.com/7lhqvqo) "
If I'm going to admit it, I've been a lazy blogger as of late. Wish I could offer legit excuses, but I'd be blowing smoke up my own ass. Been watching too much TV, reading too little, and writing even less. Bad, bad, bad girl.
Thank God 2012 is just around the corner. I can make a new set of resolutions that I will maintain for three weeks days before I break them. Well, at least I'll follow up on the lose more weight train. I've got a wedding to be in for April and I wanna look super hot!
Since I "work" with Aunt Becky and The Band, I usually see when she or my other Bandmates have updated their blogs. I, however, doubt that many don't take much interest in mine. And I'm not a big Memer, but I figured this was my lazy bloggers way out of getting some writing done. Plus I get to link back to Mommy Wants Vodka, who started me on this little path.
1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?
Started freelancing, for reals yo! I've written articles on spider porn, the beautiful nation of Belize, and cycle safety in the UK. I bit the bullet, opened up my can of crazy and started sharing my fears with the Net and all of my 2 readers.
2. Did you keep your New Year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Nope and nope. Because I will inevitably break said resolutions, feel immensely guilty, which will lead me into a shame spiral. So this year, I resolve not to make resolutions. Dammit! Now I just broke my own resolution. Shame spiral here I come.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes. Several people. And while my heart was saddened with jealousy, my uterus was doing a happy dance. 4. Did anyone close to you die?
Yes. My Gonga died over the summer and I miss her so much. Every damn day I forget that she's dead and I get ready to call her three times a day.
5. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
Money
6. What countries did you visit?
Ummmmmm I'd need money to do so, which I had none.
7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why:
The Kiddo's first day of school. September something or other. (As a History major, it's a crying shame I suck remembering dates).
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
See # 1. Also? Became an editor at The Band.
9. What was your biggest failure?
I haven't learned how to stop hurting myself as a way to deal with stress.
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Dropped 40 lbs of frozen Kumquat puree on my finger. The pain was soooooo intense I almost blacked out and the damn cut kept reopening.
11. What was the best thing you bought?
My new phone. I <3 it so much! I use to scoff at those who raved about the capabilities of their wonder phones. But when I found out that my phone had a flashlight built in, I wanted to marry it right then and there.
12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
I was going to say Antoine "Hide Yo Kids, Hide Yo Wife" Dodson, but upon Googling him I realized that was a 2010 event. (I am always late to the game. Like I just discovered the awesomeness that is Psych and The Big Bang Theory). So I don't know.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Sandusky. Child rapists sicken me.
14. Where did most of your money go?
Gas. When prices reach $4/gallon, I am trading in for a horse.
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Going on a date for the first time in three years. It was a total bomb, but I was proud of myself for getting out there. Plus I have a funny story.
16. What song will always remind you of 2011?
Yea, gonna pass on that. Have no idea. Maybe something from Weezer.
17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? Happier ii. thinner or fatter? Thinner. iii. richer or poorer? Based on money: poorer, life experience: richer, and I am all the more happier
18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Reading
19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Blowing my nose.
20. How will you be spending Christmas?
It's over at this point, but The Kiddo and I spent the night at my parent's house so they could see him open up the presents Santa brought him.
22. Did you fall in love in 2011?
I fell in love with an English hot toddy. Which makes me sound like an alcoholic, but it was the only thing that calmed my cough. But with a real person--James Roday of Psych, Jim Parsons of The Big Bang Theory. Always been in love with David Boreanaz. So in the realms of being possible, yea. No.
23. How many one-night stands?
I'm not capable of that.
24. What was your favorite TV program?
Bones
25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Yes
26. What was the best book you read?
How I Write ~ Stephen King
28. What did you want and get?
I wanted the courage to write and I got it (mostly).
30. What was your favorite film of this year? That sucks. I’m going to make up a new question: Where are your pants?
Not on me. All pants, except yoga, are bullshit.
31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 30, threw a party where I made authentic gyros with the best lamb meatballs. Lamb meatballs sounds redundant, but who wants to say they ate lamb balls?
32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Drunk dialing a long time friend and him not laughing at me the next day.
33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?
Unique.
34. What kept you sane?
A large quantity of coffee and well-timed naps.
35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
See #22. Also, I really have a girl crush on Jen Lancaster. She's funny, out-spoken, and a former member of the rat race that became a writer after being fired. I'm trying to do that.
36. What political issue stirred you the most?
Don't get me started. My days of getting hot under the collar about politics were over after I left DC.
37. Who did you miss?
My sanity? Oh wait, the question was who, like a person. My Gonga.
38. Who was the best new person you met?
My many BandMates.
39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011:
I must absolutely do what I love, or else I'll run the risk of doing nothing at all.
40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year:
Hide Yo Wife, Hide Yo Kids
If you care to follow suit and link back here, please do so after the beep:
Redford. Hot then, pretty damn good looking still.
For the love of tea and crumpets, why in the name of Lay's Potato Chips would someone greenlight a remake of The Great Gatsby? In 3 fucking D?
I'm beyond flabbergasted. Actions movies, space movies, movies about human-animal hybrids having sex with their tales--fine do it in 3D. It'll cover the fact that the plot holes are so big the national debt could fit through it.
I'll be there with popcorn when Fitzgerald comes back to gnaw the brains out of those involved in this hack job. But I will not be wearing the 3D glasses.
PS-Maybe if I got more sleep I would see this as humorous instead of sending me into a pissy hissy fit. I apply the same feeling towards "healthy" junk food. No, I don't want to see that my Lucky Charms provide me with 9 grams of fiber. (Not that I believe that.) Nor do I want to hear that the trans-fats have been removed from my Oreos. THEY DON'T TASTE THE SAME ANYMORE.
Please powers that be, stop fucking with the classics. Now hand me that stick of butter while I enjoy my first editions.
*Alternately titled "Caroline Is On A Diet And Needs A Xanax Donut"
Several years ago I when I was still a wreck,* I believed that I NEEDED a man to complete my life. I was a new mom, very single, very sad, very scared. I felt rejected on so many levels. The thing that hurt that most, that I have not gotten over yet, that I know is still hanging like a big, fucking albatross around my neck is the fact that the newsletter writer for my alma mater told me that my 'situation' wasn't something that others needed to know about.** I hated myself so much. Like Hester Pryne, I had proof positive of my sins, while the father hid in the shadows. I felt that if I HAD a man to give some type of legitimacy to my child, than I would be a socially acceptable person again.
Fast forward to present day. My son is turning 6 on Wednesday. He's excelling in school where he thinks he's the big man on campus, is loved by his family, and couldn't be more adorably cute if I asked him to be. I have pictures to back that up:
I've come to understand over the past 2 years with a lot of help from a wonderful therapist, a handful of loving friends, and an amazing Band to back me up, that I don't NEED a man to make my life complete. I don't feel like a scarlet whore any longer.
I've come to a point where I WANT a man in my life. I want to share my life with someone else. I want someone to sleep next to me at night. That person who can meet my eyes and know that the person I am talking to is a complete idiot. I want someone who will love and respect me the way I know I deserve to be treated.
I'm lonely tonight. I hate having these feelings that I can't do anything with. I'm through needing someone. I'm ready to want someone.
*I don't claim to have all my shit together, but I am a far more happier, SANER, grounded person now. My life isn't the shambles it once was.
**I finally sent an email to that asshole tonight. He's finally going to get a piece of my mind.
I've been feeling down on myself for the past few days, in part to reading and re-reading a comment that someone made to me on Teh Book of Face. I had made an off-color but totally hil.ar.ious comment in an effort to cheer up a friend. In reply, a guy I once knew as the biggest clown/screw-up/disgusting slacker came back at me with "Dude, who says shit like that?"
To say I was shocked was to say the least.
A-It's not like I said this in front of a bunch of 2nd graders
B-You use to say stuff like this all the time
C-Why did marriage and a child turn you into a humorless bastard?
But being myself, I agonized over it for days, until now when I finally said to myself today, "Screw it and the horse he rode in on."
That's me, far right, hideous floral skirt from Goodwill
See, one of my biggest struggles in the past oh, I don't know, 12 years is to speak up for myself and not allow the resulting fall back impede on what I was doing/standing up for/participating in/just being me. One particular time that I look back on with a bit of regret mixed with anger and sorrow was when a (male) friend of mine said that my association with a group of girls (a feisty bunch of women who took shit from no one) was unbecoming and a turn-off.
Still reeling from a sexual assault that no one knew about, I was cut to the core. I had found some strength in hanging out with these women, trying to recover the shattered person I had become, and yet here was a person who I (had) respected that conveyed my actions, my interactions, my choice of friends, a part of me was something to be ashamed of. And I listened to him. And I didn't hang out with those girls for almost 6 months. I missed out on 6 months of laughter, late night coffee parties, commiserating over a certain professor with a faux-English accent and Slurpee runs 15 minutes before curfew. All because I was too ashamed of myself, of the person I no longer was, of the secrets I was hiding.
Payback is a bitch
I'm not that person anymore. I've been working too damn hard to get rid of the insecurities that have hounded me. I'm not about to allow myself to be cowed again. I have no right to doubt myself. I am a strong, kick-ass woman, who happens to be a great mother, friend, sister, and daughter.
I have a great sense of humor that some don't get, plenty love, and some who laugh but act ashamed to acknowledge me. To the last group, I say, grow a fucking pair.
I need not feel ashamed of who I am, how I act, how I walk, talk, or think. I'm not harming anyone, causing anyone to do evil, or leading people towards death.
I am me and I am proud. I have a great group of girl friends from my past and a great group of people who Band around me when I'm down on myself.
I am one lucky, blessed, and strong/crazy/fun-loving/intelligent woman. . .and I'll say whatever the hell I want to.
I can't remember if we were Bond Girls or Charlie's Angels
Maybe I'm a little behind on product commercials. Being without network or cable TV for over a year, there are things that have been out on the market for months that I am just finding out about. Never realized there was a Popsicle maker that didn't utilize the freezer compartment and a sluggish one hour wait, but the Zoku Quick Pop Maker exists for the ADD driven adolescent who won't be made to wait.
Maybe you've already seen this product out there, maybe your darling prepubescent daughter, niece, babysitter, or your best-friends-10yr old-step-sister-from-Daddy's-mid-life-crisis is caterwauling about how the lonely and miserable their existence is because they don't yet own Shape-Ups XF High Kix by Skechers. If you've missed the commercial here it is off of Youtube.
My favorite part? I'm not sure if it's the depiction of boys struggling after the girls like they are a pack of beaten dogs or if it's the line "looking good and having fun." I love, love, love the dual dejecting message that the commercial sends out. First, boys are out of shape idiots, dressed up as junk food. Obviously, the aren't cool nor smart enough to be fit. Secondly, the girls wear these shoes because "they're everything a girls wants!"
Not to mention that a pair of these shoes cost 50 bucks and in this shitty economy $50 won't get you a full tank of gas. Are you as a parent willing going to shell out for shoes that the kid will outgrow by the time they sneeze?
What really get's me pissed off the most, and I've written about it in a prior post, is the there seems to be a subtle message aimed at girls that even at an age where they should be running around a playground during recess time, they need to be concerned about their looks.
Just look at the adjectives used as write up for these style shoes: FIRMING, TONING, LIFTING. Okay, if you are 20-30-40 something and insecure about your ass looking too droopy, go ahead a shell out the money for these shoes. But to we really need to be putting the idea into our girls heads that they need to be concerned about the state of their ass and thighs at the tender age of 8?
Initially, I wanted to reflect on how much my life changed in the past ten years. When the planes flew into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the fields of Pennsylvania, the world around me changed. I witnessed the anguish of friends who lost loved ones, I heard the fearful voices of my parents pleading with me to leave college and return home, I saw armed guards and patrol dogs on the streets of DC where the week before I walked without fear.
But today is not the time or place to reflect with sorrow of the world that once was. Today is a day for rejoicing and of thankfulness, for a worm of a man is no longer alive to actively seek the deaths of those who pursue freedom. And I know that Osama's death does not signal an end to the death and destruction that has been a constant part of life. However, we can rejoice that the figurehead of a terrible culture has been destroyed.
I would like to take a moment to thank all the men and women and children who have sacrificed so much these past ten years to get where we are today.
To the men and women who patrolled the streets of desert town in hundred degree heat while wearing 20lbs of clothing and gear
To the computer operators who guided drones or pinpointed airstrikes
To the seamen who ferried supplied and created floating hospitals
To the military chaplains who sought to provide comfort in life and in death for the men and women that have put their lives on the line
To the families that sacrificed having their mother, father, daughter, brother, son, aunt, sister, uncle, grandson, cousin, or granddaughter away, serving for a country with people who would hurl insults at you for doing your job.
To President Bush, whose name will go down in history with much mud for engaging us in a difficult, maybe unclear war, for taking on this head of this evil. If it weren't for your first strike, we may still be living under the fear of constant terrorist attacks that leads to no resolution. RIP USS Cole.
Like you, I don't know what's going to happen next. I would love see our troops get the hell out of the middle east, Egypt, the mountains of Afghanistan and Pakistan. I don't give a damn if we create a vacuum by leaving. We are dealing with a people who will never embrace democracy or freedom.
Tonight, as I tuck the Kiddo in bed and say prayers, I will offer up my gratitude for your continued service.
PS- Several years ago while I was working in DC as a civilian contractor for the US Coast Guard, I caught the metro into work at the Pentagon stop with two Coasties. As we descended underground at the top of the stairwell stood an angry, disheveled woman screaming obscenities and shouts of murderers at the men and women in uniform. I was infuriated that this lunatic was screaming at the people who fought for her to express her opinion in that obnoxious manner. Did she even realize that if she were dropped off in a desert town ruled by the Mujaheddin or Shiite Muslims that her life would be nothing more than a face under a vast, constricting blanket? As I charged back up the stairs to confront this raving BITCH (in my honest opinion, which you don't have to like), my co-workers grabbed me by the arms and physically carried me back down the elevator.
When I demanded they let me go as I wanted to knock this woman upside the head, both men shook their head. "Caroline, that's what we do. Our job is to protect and defend peoples right to express their opinions and live their lives as they see fit. We aren't going to get thanked by everyone."
Well, Officers Sonny Schump and David Knapp, here's my digital thank you!
PS2-If I come across any protestors today that yell about the oppression American soldiers are capable of, I will be throwing down.
I had a most irritating conversation the other day in which the other party implied that writing wasn't a real job.
Really?
Because last time I checked, there's this really coveted list (New York Times) that every writer, I mean, person who sits and plays on their computer all day would love to be on. There's this place called the Library of Congress that houses and catalogs hundreds of thousands of bound bands of paper each year. And all over the country there are stores known as book shops. Some near me are small like Book Swap (closest source for overpriced second-hand Harlequin novels and Westerns) or ginormously large like Barnes&Noble (where hipsters can be pretentious while sipping $5 lattes).
Here's the thing. While I am struggling to eke out a living as a writer at this point, I am in no way not not busy. Here's the things I have to do daily as a writer:
Write a blog entry, to stay relevant. If I skip a day, I'll lose readers, meaning less exposure.
Network via Twitter, Facebook
Seek out similar writers blogs and books, send messages, leave comments in hopes they'll come seek me out.
Put together essays that I am working on for my book, re-wording entire paragraphs at times, trashing some essays totally.
Check on developing news.
Research upcoming writers conferences, writing contests.
Research into ANYTHING that could get me more exposure on my blog, FB, or Twitter
Publish an article for the news feed I freelance for. (That part hasn't been going too well at recent. Hopefully I can reorganize some time slots to accommodate that.)
I do all this in one day, in addition to all my jobs as a stay-at-home-mother. I'm busy.
So don't tell me for one minute that writing isn't a job.
Sure, I'm not bringing in a paycheck for all the work I do. For a person who use to slave away 40 hrs a week at a job I dreaded going to, I could look forward to every other Friday because I knew my bank account would have replenished itself. I don't have that incentive to work hard each day because I'll be reaping in my rewards within two weeks. It's not like that. I don't have a promise of a paycheck every two weeks.
I'm writing because I strongly believe that this burning desire placed in me is what God is calling me to do. I've held traditional 9-5 jobs over the years and have been successful at what I've done, but ultimately I wind up burned out, crushed and angry by rules devoid of any reason. I hate working for The Man even though I was rewarded every other week with a paycheck. Now I don't have a paycheck and I couldn't be more elated.
From the age of six, I knew I wanted to write. I use to throw rubber-banded stories on my neighbor’s lawns believing that they would want to read what I had written. Since second grade much of my free time has been spent reading and writing. I do not recall a time when I have not been actively engaged in a creative writing project. I have two dresser drawers full of novellas, screen plays, and outlines, ranging from children’s literature, humorous antidotals and dark mysteries.
I have set before myself a deadline of one year to make this dream a (paying) reality. I know I have the talent it takes to appeal to an audience. I have had well-read authors, radio hosts, people both famous and other not so famous tell me how they have been touched by my writings. Some have cried at my honesty, others have laughed at my humor. I have the audience and through Kindle I have a medium that allows me to by-pass the traditional hassles of publication.
Before the advent of indie publishing, Kindle, and E-reader the typical author might spend a year or two waiting to hear back from a publisher, with four-fifths of writers receiving rejection notes based on the publisher‘s preferences. For example, Richard Hooker author of M*A*S*H , was rejected by 21 publishing houses before his book was published, spawning a movie and television series. John Grisham’s A Time To Kill was rejected 28 times before seeing print.
As media moves in a more digital direction, authors such as myself are having greater opportunities with far greater payouts. Without the traditional overhead, publishing through Amazon enables the author to set the price of their writings and keep 70% of the profit made off the book. New author Amanda Hocking has earned more that $900,000 in one year and Barry Eisler, a New York Times Best Selling Author, recently turned down a $500,000 book deal from a traditional publishing house. After doing the math, Eisler realized that self-publishing would allow him a greater profit than any of his other traditionally printed books had done.
The market, the audience, and the profit are there; I feel strongly that by utilizing my skills and dreams of writing I could turn a profit within a year. In order to devote myself wholeheartedly to this job, I need investors to back me. I got the math figured out with the assistance of a former ad executive and the numbers are good.
For now, I write, I send out query letter to potential investors, I write some more, say a few prayers, and continue writing.
But if you have a spare thousand or 25K, and would be willing to invest in a rising author drop me a line. Or you can be completely altruistic and donate via Paypal.
Seriously, how does Terry Jones get to walk around? Two weeks ago he burned the Koran. Results? Angry Muslim stormed a UN compound and reportedly killed 20 people, beheading 2 of them.
I can only imagine the shit that's gonna hit the fan when this gets more press. Honestly, does he think that burning the Koran and prosecuting Mohammed is the best way to engage angry jihadist?
I'm thinking that since Rev. Jones is so eager to stand safely a million miles away from any actual fighting, we should get together and send him on a one way trip to the front lines. While he's there if he survives the beatings that he rightly deserves from the men and women on the front lines who he is putting in greater danger, he should be handed over to the Muslims who will punish him accordingly.
Honestly, I'm so angry.
This alleged "man of God," disgusts me. To throw so much gasoline on a raging fire and then refuse to accept any role in the after-effects is so cowardly.
How is this man allowed to still walk around? Are his actions really protected by the freedom of speech?
I am so angry right now, my sailor mouth couldn't be any dirtier. Thank God I'm at my computer in Panera, and not at home in front of my Kiddo. Most of the things that are running through my mind, I won't type down for once you say something out loud, in print on the internet, you can never take it back. And on the off chance that I ever get a bigger fan base than 28 people, I can't have 3/4 of my fury coming to bit me in the ass.
What the fuck did you do, you fucking asshole Terry Jones? Are you happy now? You've got a lot of blood on your hands now that 20 UN workers are dead.
And don't try to turn this bullshit murder into Christian 'they were martyred' crap.
I'm a Catholic Christian, ready to live and die for my faith, even when it comes under fire. But NEVER in my life would I knowing goad assholes into so much anger that they decide to take their vengeance out others.
How do you tell the families of the murdered men and women that because of your arrogant, dumb-shit, child-throwing-a-temper-tantrum spectacle that you are at the root of this?
1. The choir girls for evening Sunday Mass. They sing quite well but find it impossible to keep their traps shut when they aren't signing! Between the giggles and whispers I felt less like praying and more like slaying. This past Sunday my laser beam glare, which I was secretly hoping would cause them to spontaneously melt (much like the bad guys in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark) succeeded in silencing them for a short time.
2. People who applauded the giggling choir girls specifically after Fr. E said, "Don't clap for them as they are not doing this for attention, but to use their talents to praise God." I was very hungry and quite stabby already and wanted to smack everyone who couldn't follow one simple direction.
3. Me, for being such as asshole for not being able to ignore the things that were 'bothering' me and actually pray.
4. The fact that the temperature dropped 15 degrees between the start of Mass and the end. My sleeveless top was totally inappropriate for that change.
There is a point in every person's life when they look back and mentally grimace over their past transgressions, be it a girl riddled with low self-esteem seeking affirmation by flashing her girly parts for the camera, a flamboyant fashion designer spouting anti-Semitic views, or Bill Clinton trying to convince us that 'he did not have sexual relations with that woman.' I hope you can get to that point before your family has to put you six feet under.
Do us all a huge favor and give Robert Downey Jr. a call. There's a person who did a fair amount of stupid-ass shit, but he seems to have pulled himself together quite well these past few years. I bet the man has a lot of good advice, like "you need to cut back on the piles of blow if you don't want to lose your nose" and "Hookers, hot they may be, are not totally trustworthy people. You are paying them to have sex with you, so the moment the money is gone they're not gonna hang around for your rapidly diminishing good looks."
I'd like to apologize on behalf of all the jackasses (me included) that are laughing AT you. (But seriously, you are saying some damn funny stuff). It is a shame to see a talented person spiral out of control and the fact that we are enjoyed your demise is a testament to the fact that you must not have anyone that really cares about you.
If we were to take money out of the option, say put me in place or the local homeless man on the street corner, this situation would be neutralized by day 2. Why does money give you a carte blanche on reckless, borish, whorish behavior? If I were to spout things like "I'm sorry my life is so much more bitchin than yours. I planned it that way," I'd get bitch slapped by my mother and promptly deleted from the telephone directory of several dozen people.
Where will you be when the money is gone and your world collapses in like a black star?
What will your children have to deal with as they get older? A psychotically deranged father cared for by round-the-clock nurses? What sort of personal demons are you setting them up for?
Take my advice and get your head out of the blow, step away from "smooooking hotties," and get yourself to a doctor. FAST.
To the young women who barged into my house today,
In the future, should you continue to solicit door to door in hopes of winning a college scholarship (which I highly question its authenticity even though you mentioned Oprah's name) allow me to give you a few pointers that might boost your sales or at least prevent you from losing your foot in a slamming door.
First, dress up for grits and gravy sake! I understand going door-to-door means that you might want to be a bit more casual. I'm fine with the jeans. What I find appalling is that I know you store your Marlboro Reds in your ample bosom because your shirt was low cut and stretched out of shape. I remember trying to pimp my Cutco knives (oh, the horror!) to pay for another semester of college and I never went on a call with out looking like I was going on a job interview because you know what? No one wants to buy goods from a salesperson that looks like a Jerry Springer cast member.
Secondly, slow down when you speak. You claimed to be from Kentucky, but the only time I've heard someone speak that fast was watching Gilmore Girls. Personally, I can't stand the dialogue on speed approach when it comes to conversations (unless it's along the lines of "Run!TheKillerIsHeadingThisWay!HolyShit!Run!). Southerners tend to be a bit more laid back and our drawl occasionally causes one syllable words to elongate to three syllables. (Ask a Southern boy to say shit and you'll hear "Sheeyet," no fooling.)
Third, don't ask demand, "Do you have something to drink other than water, 'cuz I don't drink that stuff." And if I offer you OJ just to get you to shut up because I am trying to be polite, don't ask "Is it disgusting?"
Fourth, DO NOT continually high-five the person you are attempting to sell you products to. I don't care if I went to college (High 5!), read The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (High 5!), studied history (Fist Bump!), do yoga (High 5!), my kid is watching a science movie you watched in high school (High 5!) or am raising my son alone (High 5!). I can guarantee you the next High 5! you attempt will probably aimed at your face. I was only too kind because my child was watching me and the train wreck you were driving.
Fifth, don't curse like a sailor straight from the docks. Yes, I have can have a foul vocabulary, but I have the common sense to speak like that in front of my friends who know me well enough and NOT in front of my child. One possible reason my neighbors are "jackasses" is because every time you opened your sewer mouth, they decided not to give you the time of day. Plus trying to convince someone to purchase a magazine because they'll get one thousand dollars (!!!!!) of coupons, because "who fucking doesn't like coupons?" is not a high selling point.
Good luck in the future! I can only imagine what the halls of higher learning has in store for you.
When I first began writing I set rigid mental parameters for myself. I didn't want to pigeon-hole myself into the MommyBlogger corner, where I wrote about nothing more than my child, his antics, and the latest reviews on trendy children's toys.
I feared that if I wrote about my son that this would become a bore, something that would interest no one. I was determined to draw an audience that would enjoy my snark on daily occurrences, I made it a point to NOT write about him in the beginning because I wanted to be thought of as a writer, not a mother who happens to write. I wanted to capture a large audience to satisfy the ego and convince myself that I had some writing chops. I wanted to be validated for no other reason that I didn't believe that I had any real talent unless someone were to tell me. Basically, I was trying to do what I've done most of my adult life: do what I believe others will enjoy/want, while I know that I am not being 100% myself.
But I've come to realize that my son is THE reason I write and I would be remiss if I didn't write about him every now and then. So I am mentally sweeping away those ridiculous parameters and will write what I want to write about, when I want to write about. And audience interest be damned.
It's like that crappy, whiny song The Fray did several years ago. If you really care about someone who is doing things that are bad for them, you run the risk of losing that friendship. But a deep, abiding friendship between two people can usually help each other walk on a better path of life.
I had a dear, long-time friend call me today and voice some concern about the hurt and anger that I still carry around from the loss of my almost marriage. And I do admit it is a HUGE fault of mine that I should work on. I can accept her just criticism of me because she has spoken these words to me out of love and concern for me.
What I CAN NOT STAND FOR THE LIFE OF ME are those who dare offer council to me when they have done absofuckinglutly nothing for my life. These people are called trolls.
And I had a troll post a message to me on my previous post WHY. I raged for a few minutes then realized the absurdity of it all.
So this is what I had to say. After all, these writings are my own fucking diatribes. I'm not forcing a gun to anyone's head to read my drivel. I am not emailing it back to ANY of my exes. And of the people who read this blog, many do not know my ex fiancee. So I can only conclude that the person who sent me this note is someone who I haven't spoken to in 4 years, but makes it their disgusting duty to read up on my life and report back to my ex.
- Anonymous,
all I have to say to you is that since you lack the courage to give me
your name (though I have a feeling who this is) I do not owe you any
explanation. In the past 4 years, that is one thousand four hundred
sixty days, you have not called me, nor written, nor text, or even sent
up smoke signals, save for this and two comments on a previous blog.
And in case this wasn't already apparent, I'll make this clear:Quiet simply, you are a coward and you like to stir the pot. Why do you feel it is your duty to read what I write and then report it back to my ex? If he has had an issue with me writing, than it is his duty to ask me to cease and desist. If I were asked by him to no longer talk about the demise of our relationship, then I would do so. So far, I haven't heard anything.
Also, if you actually read my blog, there is no way that I have ever insinuated that my ex fiancee was the man who was responsible for raping me.
Lastly, and I'll be done here, the words "COUPLES COUNSELING" were N....E....V....E....R brought up.
Oh, and one more thing, since this is MY blog and the internet is a public forum, this conversation is now fodder for my next post. So in a way, thank you for giving me a reason to write tonight.
And I was so afraid that I was going to have writers block.